Worth the Space

Love changes you. Unconditional love from another person (family members don't count) gives you self worth. Of course some are built with this worth already streaming through their blood (we sometimes call them, "pompous assholes"), but there are others out there who only see the flaws. I would love to admit that with my own mind and eyes I saw my self worth, but that isn't true. It has taken a lot to even build up my feeling of specialness, especially when it was constantly being shat on by myself and everyone else. Well, not everyone, but you get the point.


Anywho, it wasn't until I met someone very special and dear to my heart that I saw what he saw, the amazing me. It's corny to say aloud, let alone write it on my blog, but it is true. I see that I am so much better than my distant want to be a stripper or the fantasy of being a Playboy centerfold. I see the respect he gives me and I now expect that from everyone else and rightfully so.


I experienced something recently where I was disrespected as a woman and a person. I smiled and just laughed it off, but it wasn't until later that I realized how disgusting and contemptuous their actions were. See, I am still learning. I still have to check myself and say, "Hey, are you really okay with that?" or "Why is it okay for him to say that to you?" I won't go on my feminist rant just yet, but the resolution is that you as a person are worthy of so much more. Allow yourself to be respected and cherished for your amazing and unique qualities. Relish in compliments as if they were chocolate and a free spa treatment because they are. Compliments, praise and respect should give you value. Most of the time we deny ourselves of these things because we don't believe we deserve it, but let me tell you, WE DO.

Am I there yet?

My biggest problem: Wanting to write, yet not knowing what to write about.


Deciding whether to please my audience or myself.


Wanting to lash out at each imbecile I meet through the words of my blog, yet knowing this is a terrible idea and very wrong.


Wishing I had a pseudonym to use for a new blog


Hoping my writing is interesting to read. Trying to answer the question of why anyone would ready my blog out of the bazillion already out there.

Decisions, decisions, decisions.

The Benefits of Death

It's a funny thing to think about. The benefits of death. Huh?


People die. It's the circle of life. Your mom will die, your dad will die, your best friend will die even you will die. Whether it is someone close to you or maybe a celebrity you watch every week on TV, the death of someone you feel connected to can break your heart.


After hearing about the death of Cory Monteith, the "Glee" TV star who plays Finn Hudson, I immediately felt heavy with depression. Shock came over me. Why him? Why now? Thirty one years lived and yet gone within such a short time as I hear the news from a friend over breakfast.


I am an avid glee watcher, from the beginning pilot to this past season. It is hard to accept that he won't be a part of the show anymore. He will never walk on this earth anymore.


So, as I sank into a deep and dark place I began to think about my dear "Uncle Bob" who also recently passed away very unexpectedly. I asked the same questions. Why him? Why now? I was still unable to come up with justified answers. Naturally, I teared up, feeling as if the world didn't understand my pain. Everyone is so happy, yet I am still grieving.


After talking with my mom, shedding some tears for their lost souls, I was able to see the benefits of death.


I can look at all the people who have passed away and see their beautiful qualities they once bestowed on this world. I look to them on how to act, how to be. I can learn from them. Remember them whilst I trudge through this so called life. I will never forget my grandpa; Bob, Cory Monteith, and all the other deceased souls. I will cherish what they taught me. I will reap the benefits of their deaths, because once a life ends another one begins, and the ones we have lost forever will guide our hearts as best they can.


I grieve, but I can still see the footprints they left behind.

Italia!

Check out my new blog, all about my current monthly stay in Florence, Italy!

why is it so hot in here?

Life is hard. Why am I back on here? I want to keep moving forward, but here I am sitting on my couch like a lifeless sack of nothing. Is nothing inherently lifeless? I don't know. I am having a mini panic attack in my mind. Another year of school? oh fuck. No tattoos from my tattooer beau? Oh fuck. No more drinking? Oh fuck. I am scared. Scared about the past and scared about the future. I just don't know what to do. Maybe I should've kept with biology and tried desperately to bribe someone to give me a PhD. The only thing that seems sensible right now is masturbating. Masturbating is a mindless activity that solves everything. Well, sort of.

Breathe Molly. I am beginning to get neurotic with nervousness. This post is merely a place to hold my words. I'd be lying if I didn't say that writing is my passion and has always been my saving grace. I hate how inactive in film I am right now. It breaks my heart. I kind of just want to go buy an expensive camera and start creating stupid shit. No fear filming. This is just one of those moments when the past creeps up on you, taps your shoulder and whispers, "Hey, I'm baccccckkkkk!" God damn.

I just want to erase and start over. You can start over, but your past will forever be there waiting to remind you that you've fucked up before and that you can do it again, fuck up, that is.

It suddenly got sweltering hot in this room.

Oh god, pre menopause.

I haven't even sold a script yet. Menopause, wait!

Son Of a Bitch Everything's Real...-Gary Busey

I am resistant to write on here, mainly because I feel I have no place on the internet anymore except for the occasional tweet and my obnoxious facebook statuses. My blog seems like a part of the past, yet for some reason here I am revisiting it. I suppose the main thing I wanted to say is that I am welcoming back sobriety with open arms. I won't say I had a relapse into the big boiling pot of alcoholic concoctions that are sickly sweet, but I made a direct decision to start drinking again. It all started with that one amazing concert. The moment just seemed to fit. I have been drinking ever since. No horrid repercussions have resulted from my last stint of drinking, but that isn't to say it didn't make me feel different, because it did. I was using alcohol to numb feelings. I was using it to have fun. Looking back, after talking with a friend of mine, I see that the path of sobriety gave me a purpose, a motivating drive everyday. I felt healthy and like I was beating the biggest feat of my life everyday which is just dealing and experiencing reality. Alcohol is fun and quick. I don't deny these things, but I think today I will be sober.

As Gary Busey says... S.O.B.E.R. = Son Of a Bitch Everything's Real

So, cheers to today as a sober Molly.

i'm back bitches... april fools

I took a break from blogging. I found myself censoring my thoughts and words just for this silly blog of mine. It has been good to be completely "real" with myself in my sketch journal. I'd like to say I am back in action, free as a bird, uncensored like Howard Stern, but that is not the case. I don't know when I will return to this blog.

So why even write this post?

I don't know. I guess I wanted to see my thoughts typed out and appearing on my screen again, imagining someone will read these prolific works called "posts."

Molly wants recognition...this is true.

Anywho. I am not coming back for a while. I still need to work on myself and go back to my roots where the love of writing and writing for self expression first arose. To anyone and everyone who reads this, I ask, "how much do you censor yourself?"

I do it way too much.

Chink.
faggot.
the jewish.
my niggaz.
I love giving head.
Blow me.
anal sex is good.
vibrators.
fat asses.
phat asses.
CUNT face.
bdsm.
my pussy tastes like diet coke.
I lie to please, it pleases me to lie.
rug muncher.
dykez for dayz.
titty twister.
dildo sucking fucktard.
retard.
balls on my face.
anorexic binge slut who eats cum for breakfast.
cutter.
druggie.
heroin.
alcoholic at 20.
spanking with your belt.
BIG cock.
NSFW.
life's beggars.
the colored peoples.
meat curtains.
two in the pink one in the stink.
butt buddies.
gay porn turns me on.
I fucked all your friends.
I fucked your roommate.
bisex sex.
pussy power.
they all smell as one race.
discrimination.
gay beaners.
blanco chica bonita.
puta.
floggers.
latex.
baby condoms.
bukkake.
pornhub low quality finger fucking.
tattoos.


Yup, now I feel better. Phew.